This may (will) shock some (all) of you, but I’m not very good (“am shit”) at small talk. I’ve just had it re-confirmed to me on entering my house and being introduced to my new housemate.
I mean, it doesn’t help that I was walking up the driveway to be confronted by a shirtless man staring at me through his window, or that I then entered the house to have him walk out of his room, into my path and FORCEFULLY, AGAINST MY WILL, introduce himself politely.
Have to say, that may have taken away some of my natural small talk charm I’m usually so renowned for.
Seriously though – I can’t even do my usual claims of dismissing things because of their inanity or pointlessness. While it is both those things, it serves a vital purpose: making people think you give a shit about anything to do with them at all. This, in turn, stops murders from happening. I’m too smart to be above small talk, but I’m too dumb to be able to do it properly.
“So, what do you do?”
“Oh, right. That must be fun.”
“I hate you.”
Every time. Without fail. It’s not a recipe for making acquaintances want to not creep into your room and bum you to death in your sleep, really.
I really must teach myself the ways of spouting (more) inanity, lest I become Just Another Victim.